


to feel something.

by marquis



Series: Touch. [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, but i restrained myself, i almost used the 'replay' trope, it's almost too fluffy as is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 00:19:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/855640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marquis/pseuds/marquis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall and Harry have been waltzing for a while now. Louis wants Liam to dance with him, even though it's very unlikely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to feel something.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Daughter's "Touch", which also gave me the name for the series. The song is far more depressing than the fic, though, which was actually - shocker - not the original plan here. I'm not quite sure if I like this piece yet, because it certainly is nothing like what I thought it would be. At all. So please do help me decide. :D

“We don’t ever dance like that,” Louis comments one day, offhand.

Liam looks up from his phone, curious and confused. There’s a video playing on Louis’ laptop of Niall and Harry waltzing together onstage, horrible footwork and flailing limbs. The two of them have been inseparable for the past few days, hands in back pockets and noses in necks. It’s not hard to figure out what’s going on there, Liam thinks, and that’s one of the reasons why he doesn’t – can’t – dance around with Louis _like that_.

He shrugs. “We don’t.”

That doesn’t seem to satisfy Louis much at all. He leans in and rests his head on Liam’s shoulder, looking at him through eyelashes long enough to stab a man. “Liam, will you dance with me?”

“No.”

Louis sighs, setting his laptop down on the table in front of them and curling into Liam’s side. Liam wraps an arm around his shoulder but doesn’t acknowledge the obvious question there, the little _why not?_ that hangs in the air between them like a deflating balloon. There are a few more huffs and puffs and sniffles from Louis before he finally realizes that Liam isn’t going to answer. After that, he quiets down and settles into the silence, and Liam thinks to himself that that must be the end of that.

\--

It’s impossible to be in a band with someone for almost three years without learning a few things. Louis knows this, just as he knows that Zayn never closes the toothpaste and Harry always puts the seat down after using the toilet. It’s just as much a fact as Niall’s snoring, although no one has exactly said anything about either of them.

Louis has learned over time that Liam has Rules.

He has spent most of his time breaking those rules, so he may perhaps know more about them than the other boys. For example, it is rude not to tip the waiter at _least_ thirty percent, even if they are terrible, because they may need the extra cash and the boys are nothing if not capable of giving that much. For example, it is polite to make the bed and tidy up the room after staying in a hotel, because while it is the job of the maid to clean it up, they have had to clean up plenty of disgusting rooms and it is impolite to be a burden. For example, rinse a plate with water, smile during interviews even when sad, and never, under any circumstances, be mean to a fan.

For _example_ , there are certain things that must only be done when with either a current or a potential lover. This list includes - but is not limited to - cuddling, sleeping, kissing of any kind, sex, and flirting. (This was the first rule that Louis attempted to break. Tucked in beside Liam in the bus’s tiny bunk, he feels like he might have won that battle, at least in part.)

Apparently, another thing that Liam is not capable of perceiving as platonic is ballroom dancing. Louis thinks, as he’s tucking his knees into the bend of Liam’s, that he’ll be breaking down that barrier next.

\--

Harry pulls Niall in close and leans him down into a dip, unstable and clumsy. Niall, of course, flops completely and falls to the ground. Somehow Harry gets pulled down with him, and there they are, a tangle of limbs and a lack of coordination that is all too familiar to far too many people.

“We’re in public, boys,” Liam reprimands them, fingers tapping on his knees.

Niall places a sloppy kiss on Harry’s cheek before turning to look at Liam, cheeks red and eyes bright. “We were in public last night, too, Li, and you didn’t seem to mind it then.”

It’s very true, but there’s a difference between being on stage in front of fans that know them well enough to expect this sort of thing and sitting in the green room of a show they’ve never been on. Any second now, an adult they’ve never met before will walk in with the intent to treat them like children, and, looking at the pile of Harry-Niall on the floor, presume that they are justified in that treatment.

Hands wrap around to rest on his. A chin presses against his forehead. Louis is leaning over the back of the couch, a warm presence against Liam’s back. Liam tries to keep in mind that he’s supposed to be frustrated.

“It’s just dancing, Li,” Louis tells him. His voice rumbles against Liam’s spine, like when they’re on stage and Liam can feel the music in the center of his chest. “Let them have their fun, yeah?”

It’s simultaneously very simple and very difficult to just relax into Louis and focus on matching their breathing. By the time the door opens and a woman comes in with a frown and heels that seem to click even against the carpet, he’s almost succeeded.

\--

“It’s just dancing, Li,” Louis promises, holding out a hand. He’s hoping that Liam will believe him and relax into it, the exact same way he never does when it comes to breaking his Rules. “We wrestle all the time; why is this different?”

“I don’t know,” Liam says, cheeks tinged a lovely pink and eyes trained steadily on his hands. “It just is. It’s more intimate, isn’t it? Being all pressed up against each other?”

Louis grabs Liam’s hand and pulls him up anyway, lifting their arms and spinning underneath them. He keeps the hands up even as Liam’s arm sags and he starts to pull away, squeezing until both of their knuckles are white. “Look, though! Not intimate or scary. We’re a whole two feet apart. Come on, Payner, give me a twirl.”

It’s pretty obvious he isn’t going to, but he’s smiling now, at least, and Louis thinks that’s progress. Liam pulls on Louis’ arm and tackles him to the ground. They roll around for a bit, poking in all of the very worst places until they’re breathless from the laughter. Liam wins in the end, kneeling over Louis and holding his arms over his head.

Louis smiles. “Right, of course, this isn’t intimate. Not at _all_.” He shifts and tugs up against Liam’s hold, nipping at his neck just to prove that he hasn’t been entirely beaten.

It’s unexpected, Liam leaping up like he’s been electrocuted. As he watches Liam dash out of the room, Louis wonders a bit abstractly how it took so long for him to push it all too far.

\--

The looks he keeps getting from the rest of the band tell Liam that he’s not really being very discreet about any of this. He would really like to pretend that what happened with Louis was just a dream of his, something he could blink away and rub from his eyes like a stray eyelash or sand. It isn’t, though; Louis has been very slowly working Liam up to being comfortable with physical affection, he _knows_ this, but it’s coming to his attention now that if he doesn’t stop it soon it won’t ever stop at all. Louis will keep pushing his limits and he will keep letting him, and it will escalate until it’s Liam wanting something that Louis will never give him, and he’s not sure he can handle that.

Only, well. Louis looks very sad as of late.

And it isn’t like Liam is entirely against the habits that they’ve built up. He wishes that Louis would curl into his side or come into his bunk when one of them can’t sleep. Really, though, he wishes that they could do that without the inevitable conclusion that Louis has obviously failed to reach by now: Liam is incapable of doing that sort of thing without developing _complications_ , the sort of thing that could lose him friends that he cares for if not reciprocated or delivered correctly.

He wishes that Louis could nip at his neck without him having to run to the bathroom for a quick wank afterward, is what he’s getting at. This is also not something that he would like to share with his fellow bandmate, and so it is that he leaves everyone hanging, curling in on himself like paper left over an open flame. It’s eating away at him, he knows, turning his edges brown and black and an ugly yellow, like an old bruise hell-bent on sticking around.

This is what he tells Harry, when cornered in the kitchenette of their tour bus.

“Wait, hold on,” he says, eyes squinty and head tilted. “You’re ignoring Louis because he’s a bruise? Or because he accidentally lit you on fire?”

Liam sighs heavily. “No, it’s like. When you’re making s’mores as a kid, you know, and you want the marshmallow to heat up but you don’t want it to burn, so you let it catch on fire and then you blow it out before the whole thing lights up. Only if I let it catch on fire, I won’t be able to blow it out at all. Do you get it?”

Harry’s eyes get smaller. Liam wonders if he can even see anymore. “When did marshmallows get involved in all of this?”

“Harry, have you been getting enough sleep recently?” Liam asks, purely out of curiosity. He seems particularly out of it, anyway; normally pointless metaphors and ridiculous comparisons are his spot of expertise. It shouldn’t be taking him this long to make sense of what Liam’s getting at.

Harry laughs. “No, I’m not. Niall sees no point in sleep anymore.” Liam is going to need to wash his ears and brain with bleach. Harry ignores his pained expression. “That’s not even what this is about, Li – I’m just wondering how you can possibly spin all of this poetic shit at me and not even realize that you definitely have a thing for Lou.”

That, actually, is not as surprising as Liam once might have anticipated. “Maybe. Point is, I have to keep it from becoming a problem. I don’t want to drive Louis off or anything, so I’m trying to keep myself from getting too far into this.”

Harry pats him on the back. “You’re an idiot. Have fun.”

Liam isn’t sure exactly how he is supposed to interpret that.

It’s Zayn that corners him next, backstage before a concert. “Liam, mate, what’s going on between you and Louis?”

“Nothing?”

It’s futile. Liam _knows_ it’s futile. What he doesn’t know is why he even thought to try it in the first place. “If it is nothing, it’s the bad kind of nothing. You two were fine around each other a week ago.”

“He wanted me to dance with him, like Niall and Harry do sometimes.” It’s useless to hide things from Zayn; Liam found that out very early on. He’s actually quite good at advice.

Zayn nods like he understands, and then promptly pulls Liam in close. He’s got a hand in the small of Liam’s back and another holding his hand up. “Like this, you mean?” he questions, stepping forward and back and forcing Liam to follow, or else risk falling over.

“Yes,” Liam says, and then, “Zayn, please let me go.”

“You have issues,” Zayn tells him, refusing to let go. “Why is this a problem?”

Liam wants to pull away. He doesn’t really know why he hasn’t yet. “Because. Niall and Harry are _dating_. Dancing like this with someone you aren’t interested in is a really bad idea.”

“But you’re doing it with me. Are you interested in me?”

“No.”

“Are you interested in _Lou_?”

Liam hesitates and Zayn grins, wide and brilliant. It’s horrible. “Well, yes, but – he’s not interested in me. It would be awkward for him, I think, because he’ll find out that I – well, you know, it won’t – he’s going to hate me, Zayn, and I don’t know if I can handle that.”

Zayn spins them around, still smiling. “Are we talking about the same Louis?” he asks. “The one I know seems to be pretty torn up about the fact that you _won’t_ dance with him. Or talk to him. Or look him in the eye, even.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Believe it or not, most of the ideas this band has are absolutely horrible anyway. We’ve survived.”

\--

They’re on stage when it happens. Louis has just watched Niall and Harry collapse into a fit of giggles, kittens with a ball of yarn, and he really just isn’t in the mood to watch them be all cuddly and adorable when Liam refuses to make eye contact. It’s torture, is what it is.

And then he turns around. Liam’s standing there with a hand out, waiting for Louis to notice him.

He wants to ask why, but with a microphone in his hand and thousands of girls watching, now probably isn’t the best time. He grabs Liam’s hand and lets him pull their bodies close.

“I’m not very good at this,” Liam tells him, quiet in comparison to everything else but the only thing that Louis wants to hear, “so you’re going to have to lead.”

\--

They share a hotel room that night. When Liam presses Louis down, one hand around both of his wrists, he leans down until his lips are brushing Louis’ ear.

“I lied, by the way,” he mutters, enjoying the way that Louis shivers in response. “This can be very, _very_ intimate, if you’d like.”


End file.
